Test Subject 175

• Jaida Bourke, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2019

stumble forward onto some leaves and twigs. Suddenly a net pulls me up to the sky then stops abruptly in mid-air. The net squishes me and I struggle to move as my trap sways backwards and forth. ”Help,” I screech. I hear a twig snap over to my left and I immediately dart my eyes over to the trees. I gasp as I see a man wearing some sought of tribal mask behind a tree. He slowly approaches me and I stretch my hand out in a sign of need and desperation.

He jolts back abruptly, then lunges at the net brandishing a knife. I cry out as he slashes the top of the net and I fall to the ground. I quickly scramble away from this strange man. “Please” I beg. “I don’t want to hurt you.” I hold up my hands in front of my face. Despite my plea’s, the man jumps at me attempting to cut me with the knife.

We struggle awkwardly over the weapon but he is much stronger than I am and pushes it closer and closer to my throat. I cry out as the blade closes in on me. I push the knife away with all my might and it flies from our hands landing on the ground a few metres away from us. We both look at the knife, my heart pounding in my throat. In a blink of an eye, I lunge frantically at the weapon and manage to swoop it up before my attacker gets a chance to move. The roles have now been reversed and I am the one with the power. The power to hurt, kill, destroy.

The man now backs away from me slowly as I approach him wielding the knife in my right hand. I corner him in front of some trees. My hands shake and my breathing increases as I think to myself, one slash across the throat, I can do it. This man tried to kill me.
What am I thinking? I can’t kill him, no matter what he did to me. The knife slips from my grip and falls to the ground. Quicker than lightning the man dives at the weapon now resting at my feet and swiftly picks it up. He manages to get behind me and put me in a headlock with the knife piercing my throat.

I scream as the knife penetrates my soft flesh tearing it open as if it was a paper bag. The warm blood seeps down my neck. I crumple against a tree clutching at my throat. I bring my hands away crying at the sight of my red blood staining them. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open and I keep slipping in and out of consciousness. The man pulls out a walkie talkie and says “Test subject Daisy 175 has failed, prepare test subject 176.” These were the last words I hear before everything goes dark.